


After The War

by Snickerdickles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Apocalypse, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Developing Relationship, End of the World, Engineers, F/M, Family Loss, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Future, Future Fic, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Male Character, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, I'm love???, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Infection, Korean Keith (Voltron), Loss of Limbs, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pansexual Hunk (Voltron), Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Samoan Hunk (Voltron), Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, Technology, Travel, Virus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 07:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14373879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickerdickles/pseuds/Snickerdickles
Summary: About a decade ago, the war ended. The government tried to kill the poor and homeless population in an effort to save money. Unfortunately, the gas didn't kill, it mutated the minds of its victims.Now, the world is destroyed, trashed, uninhabitable, barren. Think Sierra Leone in the 90s and just a little bit like Hunger Games.Keith Kogane, Lance Espinosa, Pidge Holt, Hunk (who has denounced his given name), Takashi Shirogane, and Matt Holt meet unintentionally and even after Society Collapsed, they still manage to love, even if its platonic. They are still human.And all they want is to survive.





	After The War

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue how this will end or how many chapters there will be, but it'll update about once a week sometime between Thursday and Sunday.  
> This is graphic as all fuck and has total potential to be triggering. Please be warned. 
> 
> Anyways, no beta and these are just intros to the situation and the characters' current lives and what sets them on their way to meeting.

After The War  
A Story of Six Rebels 

The Beasts were what we called “victims”, a product of the chemicals used in the war to gas the homeless and poor people all over the country. It ate away at their brain matter, and some of the people infected later or vaccinated had bodies that were stronger, brains that could reject the chemicals. But that only made them scarier when and if they were infected. Those victims were faster, stronger. And they had one instinct: to eat. And with agriculture collapsed, their best source of food was the remaining people. But those people, about half of which were paranoid Doomsday preppers, got tougher. They did not fuck around. But, it was in no way every-man-for-himself, everyone grouped up with familiar faces.  
No matter how much death each individual had seen, how many attacks and gas raids they had survived, it never got easier to see all the children and infants. Some born before the war, some after. Babies’ heads on stakes in front of abandoned homes that now served as bases for some of the more aggressive groups, the ones that didn't mind killing a fellow survivor if it got them their way. Infant corpses wrapped in stained and filthy cloth laid in front of stone piles with small chunks of dried wood burning at their feet. Children, toddlers, desperately trying to survive by killing birds and squirrels and picking berries off of trees. More often than not, those berries were their cause of death. Twelve and thirteen year olds hiding in bushes away from ghost towns or government soldier march paths and shooting themselves. Young teenagers who hadn't had a good nights rest in so long, terrified of the faces they saw in their dreams. Boys and girls of all ages carrying emaciated newborns and leading toddlers covered in infected scratches and wounds, leaving a brown-red trail with each step they took. Adults starving themselves in old houses, crying endlessly over the bodies of their loved ones.  
There was no peace. Nothing was okay. 

···April 25th···

||Deep South||  
Keith Kogane, Alone in The Desert  
Right around the time Keith had started to do well in school and be happy with himself, that was when the war started. Both of his parents enlisted and left him in the care of the school. He was 10 at the time, of course, that was ten years ago. When he was 16, he hadn't heard anything from his parents and a year later he got a military letter telling him his father was killed. He ran away into the surrounding desert after that and the Garrison assumed him dead.  
Those were awful years, but at least he was still alive. He couldn't say the same for 99% of the population. He still had his head, his limbs, and his health. But he was alone, and with the fighting ceased, he was just sad. He felt slow and tired all the time. The government had used chemicals that killed the brain matter of its victims, and while it wasn't in use anymore and he wasn't a victim, he sometimes felt like he may as well be. As useless as he was. 

||West||  
Pidge, One Foot in The Grave  
Hunk, An Angel in Yellow  
She couldn't really remember what had initiated the war, not entirely. But she remembers listening to air raid communications and leaving one night to the West. In the East, those gas attacks supposedly hit the worst, killing every single human and animal there.  
Where was she now? In a tree, waiting to die. She hadn't eaten in almost two weeks and she was already small and somewhat fragile. Somewhere deep in her soul, though, she had a feeling someone who could help would pass by soon. And she was right, below her watch-spot, passed a boy about her age. He was wearing yellow, a sign of inter-group peace. He was like an angel, but as weak as she was, she had no strength to call out, so she looked down. It wasn't an unmanageable fall, and she dropped out of the tree. He ran over to her and good lord, he was just so heavenly. He could have left her, but he didn't. He pulled his bag over his shoulder and set down his bat. It was covered in poorly hammered in nails and screws, and it wasn't exactly just dirt and dust stained. But the stains were black, from the Beasts. The victims. He put her head up on his thigh and put his canteen to her lips as he babbled about what to do and if she was okay. When she had begun to let some drip from her mouth and down her neck, he pulled it away and fed her ripped pieces of a slightly stale loaf of bread. It was like gold, like blood, the gift of life. She mumbled a raspy, strained thank you and he threw his back back over his shoulder, picked up his bat in one hand and her in the other.  
He was soft and he seemed sweet. He called himself Hunk. He had been from the far Eastern Islands and he had denounced his true name when he had to leave his family behind to save his own skin. How Pidge knew this? He talked for two and a half hours straight while she was slung over his shoulder, regaining the strength to move. 

||East||  
Lance Espinosa, Protector of the Young 

The war and the gas attacks left too many children displaced and injured. His Mamá, him, and his siblings took care of as many as possible. Sometimes it was just hospice, but about four young kids stayed with them, following them like lost puppies and never leaving their sight. It was sad. These kids’ parents might be Beasts now, or just plain dead.  
But it was Lance’s job to raid pharmacies and old stores for baby food and formula. If a child could eat squirrel, bird, or rat meat, they did. And on one particular raid, his Mamá went with him. She left his 19 and 14 year old sisters with the kids in a bunker on the outskirts of the town. It was gross there, but it was safe.  
While Lance was stuffing formula canisters and baby food jars into his bag, he heard his Mamá scream, just for a second. Like she had seen something, and when he turned to check on her, she was gone. And in the corner across the room, he saw a Beast twist her head off like a jam jar lid and throw it over his shoulder like nothing. It began to dig it's oddly animal claws into her neck and feel around before grunting and pulling out her esophagus and shoving it in its mouth, slurping on it like spaghetti. He didn't make a noise, he just ran as far as he could in the direction of the bunker. 

|| Between The Mid-North and The Far West ||  
Takashi Shirogane, Saved By Love’s Connections

He was definitely lucky to have survived a victim attack, but he did have some absolutely disgusting, severe wounds on his lower right arm that looked kind of infected. Actually, scratch that. They were infected. And as much effort as it took to buckle down and ask for help, he went to Matt and showed him his arm. Matt, as sweet and normally level-headed as he was, panicked and when he finally calmed down, he said he knew where to go. In the Far West, his father still resided. But, that was about a four day walk from where they were in the North. Four disgusting, risky days of walking out of the North, through the West and into the Far West.  
·  
While travelling, Shiro’s infection became significantly worse. What was previously some mild redness and warmth was now green, red, and black rotted flesh and a nauseous feeling when he stood up, profuse sweating, and an intense thirst for water that they didn't have.  
·  
At the cabin maintained by Matt’s father, Samuel Holt, Shiro heard news. Not good news, not in the slightest. But it wasn't exactly bad news either. He would live, and he'd be okay. But his arm was gangrenous up to his shoulder, and if they had been even a day later, it would have turned to gas gangrene in his internal organs, which he would have absolutely zero chance of surviving. So, that was to say he was going to lose his arm. Holt was a doctor, so he was trustworthy, but despite all the pain Shiro felt in his entire right side, he didn't want to have to have his arm amputated. There were a million whirlwind thoughts in his head: would he last amongst the victims and environmental danger? Would Holt miss some of the infection and he wouldn't ever wake up? Would the only person he had left, his love, his protector and protectee, still love him? Find him beautiful or sexy or even just aesthetically pleasing? Maybe not, and the rational part of him said he just needed to live.

**Author's Note:**

> It's an AU that I made a map for, in which I just called the regions North, South, East, West, and Far West. There is no Cuba or Samoa, but there are races, languages, and ethnicities sooooo  
> Thats the situation on Hunk, Lance, and Keith.
> 
> UPDATE: Finals kicked my ass and I lost the existing work I had typed up, so we have to restart. Yay.   
> Basically, I have a lot of shit to do between working on projects, my finance situation, and travelling to see relatives.


End file.
